


Polygraph

by BlueNeutrino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Kendricks, Young Ketch, polygraph test
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: Before he can graduate Kendricks, part of 18-year-old Arthur Ketch’s training requires him to pass a polygraph test.





	Polygraph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelwithbrokenwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/gifts).



> Maybe part one of more, but for now a standalone.
> 
> For angelwithbrokenwings, who helped with the brainstorming while we were thinking about what kind of training Ketch might have had.

“Arthur.”

Hess’ voice is harsh, immediately grabbing Ketch’s attention as he makes his way through the corridors of Kendrick’s east wing. He turns, body stiffening as he addresses her. “Ma’am?”

She gives a sharp jerk of her head, expression stern. “Come.”

She turns to pace in the opposite direction and, confused though he is, Ketch obediently follows. Class starts in five minutes, but if the school's principal has other business with him, he finds himself wondering what's so important that she's making him miss it. They soon reach the part of the school off-limits to students, and Ketch swallows nervously as she leads him through the heavy wooden door to the staff quarters, then further on to an office. The room is small, unusually plain considering the ornate architecture of the rest of the building. Inside, a man in a suit is sat at a table, laptop open in front of him and several wires connected to instruments branching off. There are three chairs: two office-style swivels beside the computer, and one plain wooden hard-backed one opposite.

“Sit,” Hess says curtly, nodding at the wooden chair.

Ketch crosses over to it, but can’t help but let his confusion show. “Ma’am? What’s this about?”

“That isn’t for you to ask.” She fixes him with an admonishing look. “Now, _sit_.”

The man by the computer cuts in. “Jacket off first, if you don’t mind,” he says. “And the shoes.”

Ketch slips off his Kendricks blazer followed by his oxfords, then takes an uncomfortable seat in the chair. His mouth has gone dry.

Hess watches him closely as the technician takes the instruments from the table and begins to clip two tubes to his shirt, one running across his chest and the other just below his ribs. He then slips a blood pressure cuff around Ketch’s upper arm, securing it tightly, before finally asking him to rest a hand on the table so he can fit sensors to Ketch’s fingertips.

Ketch swallows anxiously as he does so, the white dressing covering his fresh tattoo in plain view. He knows Hess sees it, but she doesn’t comment.

The man finishes securing sensors around Ketch’s index and ring fingers before returning to sit by the computer, the screen hidden from view. Ketch has figured out by now they’re running a polygraph test. What he doesn’t know is why.

“Arthur, I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” Hess says. “All we ask is that you answer truthfully.”

Ketch swallows again. “Ma’am, if you please, could I at least know why I’m here?”

Her nostrils flare, and he immediately regrets asking the question. “I think you know, Arthur.”

Genuinely, he doesn’t, but he isn’t about to press the issue. Hess picks up a clipboard from the table and slips on a pair of reading glasses while the technician watches the screen. She perches the glasses on the end of her nose, making her look every inch the stern schoolmistress. “Now, let’s begin with something simple. Is your name Arthur James Wesley Ketch?”

Well, that is simple enough. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing here, but Ketch tries to breathe slowly to calm himself. He has nothing to hide. “Yes.”

She continues without a reaction. “Are you a student at Kendricks Academy currently in training to become a Man of Letters?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask permission from your superiors before obtaining a tattoo on your right hand?”

Ketch grits his teeth. He didn’t, and there will be consequences for it, but right now he needs to show honestly. “No.”

“Have you been regularly engaging in sexual intercourse with Lady Antonia Bevell?”

That one catches him off guard. He pauses, swallows, then steels himself to answer, “Yes.”

“Did you lose your virginity to Lady Bevell?”

 _Fuck_. That one’s a low blow. Ketch can feel his face burning, heart rate and breathing creeping higher despite his best efforts. “Ma’am…”

“Just answer the question, Ketch.”

Another pause. “No.”

He sees her raise a sceptical eyebrow, expression disapproving, and he knows he isn’t good enough to cheat the test. “Wait…” Ketch swallows as Hess fixes him with a piercing stare, then drops his gaze to the floor. “Yes.”

Hess doesn’t comment, moving straight onto the next question. “Have you ever entered restricted areas of Kendricks Academy without authorisation?”

“No.”

“Have you ever logged into a Kendricks staff computer with stolen credentials?”

“No…” This is the first question that genuinely confuses him. He waits for the next question to come, but then looks up to see Hess fixing him with a piercing stare. The technician turns to her, mumbles something, and Ketch can suddenly feel the thumping of his heart at his sternum. A bead of sweat trickles down his neck underneath his collar, which suddenly feels too tight.

“We know you’re lying, Arthur,” Hess says, and Ketch can feel the almost full-blown panic building in his chest.

“Ma’am, I swear I know nothing about this.”

She looks unimpressed. “Ketch, this is a serious matter. We need to know the truth. Did you break into staff quarters two days ago and download restricted files?”

He needs to stay calm. He knows he does. But he’s telling the truth and she doesn’t believe him. “No! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! If the machine is telling you otherwise, it’s wrong.”

Hess rises from her seat, glare fixed in place, and strides over to him. “This is grounds for immediate expulsion, Ketch. Though, we appreciate honesty. We would be prepared to be more lenient if you tell us the truth.”

Fuck, but he’s hyperventilating. _Expulsion_. No. No, that can’t happen…

“Ma’am, I swear…” He looks up at her, pleading. “I would never.”

“Last chance, Arthur.”

 _Oh_ _fuck_. What is there to lose? “Alright, I did it!” he lies, desperate. His heart hammers manically. “I hacked the computer.”

There’s a pause. Hess peers down at him, watching his flushed face as gasps for breath, then reaches down and rips the tubes from the front of his shirt. “Disappointing,” she says, a note of disgust in her voice, and Ketch feels his throat has gone tight. “There was no break in at the staff quarters,” she says as she roughly removes the BP cuff from his arm. “This was a test. The first part of your training in how to pass a polygraph test.”

Ketch blinks, mind racing as his body tries to catch up. “You...made it all up?”

She finishes off pulling the sensors from his fingers then strides back to her seat. “Of course I did. Pull yourself together, Arthur. This was all a test to establish how you would respond in a stressful situation, and I must say, you performed poorly.”

Ketch flushes crimson again, and bows his head. He supposes he did, and he’s embarrassed.

“Has your sniper training taught you nothing?” Hess continues, accusatory. “You should have better control over your emotions; more discipline with your breathing and heart rate. You allowed yourself to panic.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ketch mutters, forcing himself to look at her again. He’s let her down. Not to mention let himself down, and he hates it.

“You’ll report back here tomorrow at 9am to begin your formal training,” Hess orders, and the look of disappointment in her face stings. “That will be all. Get back to class, Arthur.”

Ketch nods and collects his jacket and shoes before exiting the room, not putting them back on until he’s back out on the corridor. Fuck, he curses himself, face still burning too hot despite the immediate panic being over. It was so obvious, and he should have known.

At least Hess had been wrong about his sniper training: he was learning well, even if he’d momentarily forgotten it all in a moment of stupid fucking panic. He flattens a hand over his chest as he takes a deep, calming breath, then presses two fingers to his carotid and times his pulse as he tries to calm himself down. It takes him under two minutes to bring his heartbeat back to a normal rate, body temperature cooling as his sweat evaporates and the flush in his cheeks fades.

He’s okay. It will be okay. He’ll show up to training tomorrow and he’s going to be the damn best in the class, just as he is with everything else.

Only once he’s convinced himself of that does Ketch head back out into the hallways to finally get to class.


End file.
